The Curse

JoAnne forced her way brusquely through the dense crowd toward the Thai place on the corner. Lord, she hated holiday shopping — screaming brats, the jarring sounds of ringing bells, the constant fucking “gimme, gimme, gimme” of the damn “charity” workers. As if they weren’t really there to guilt you into forking over the goddamn money. And all these fucking people just kept on bumping against her, wrinkling her $2000 black skirt and jacket power suit. Didn’t they have somewhere to be, didn’t people work anymore?!

Just as she broke free of the crowd, she half-ran-into and half-plowed-over a diminutive blonde girl in some kind of Christmas outfit, sending packages skittering across the frozen ground and knocking the mini-skirted kid on her ass. Great, what the fuck was a kid doing out in the middle of the day anyway… JoAnne stopped. From the size of her boobs, this was no kid — a midget?

Crap, they used something else now, like small person or some shit….

The blonde glared at her through her skewed hair while she straightened her tilted elf hat for a second, then caught herself and smiled, although, honestly, it looked a little more like she was gritting her teeth. “Merry Christmas, huh?”

JoAnne rolled her eyes and started to walk on.

“Hey! Aren’t you going to help me get all this shit picked up?”

JoAnne looked over her shoulder at the flustered little blonde. “Fuck off, I’m busy” and pushed her way into the Restaurant. Finding her way to her usual seat, as she brushed her short, platinum blonde hair back, she sat and pointed at the waitress who immediately ran to the kitchen to get her order started and get her a damn drink. JoAnne pulled out her blackberry and started to pull up her emails — about 10 seconds later her system froze. Shit.

The chair across from her pulled out.

Without looking up, JoAnne growled. “I don’t need any company, and I need space to work. Fuck off.” Even with her cold demeanor, her pale skin, white blonde hair and blue eyes drew more attention than she’d ever wanted.

Nothing happened. When she looked up, the tiny honey blonde from outside was leaning back in the chair, staring at her with her arms crossed under her outsized boobs. She looked a like a distinctly adult-oriented version of an elf — long blonde hair, pointy ears, a micro-miniskirt and a huge rack that barely stayed in her costume. Despite the rosy cheeks and turned up nose, though, the twinkle in her eyes looked extremely icy.

JoAnne sighed. Oh well, if the little bitch wanted to be a problem, she’d have her thrown out. She started to look around for a waiter, then realized nobody was moving. Nobody at all. Inside or in the vast crowd outside. No sound. Everything was frozen. She looked back at the girl, who slowly arched her left eyebrow in an overly dramatic fashion.

“Look Sister, I’d tell you not to do anything stupid, but that would be wasted effort. You can’t do anything, you’re stuck in that chair until I say otherwise. Elf. Christmas. Magic. Bitch.”

JoAnne started to protest, but her mouth simply froze as the Elf raised her hand.

“Don’t bother. This isn’t a dream. You didn’t fall and hit your head. You haven’t even had a drink today yet. And it sure as fuck-all wasn’t that nasty bran concoction you had for breakfast. On your salary you eat sawdust for breakfast? Fuck, eat a good breakfast and spend five more minutes on the damn elliptical.”

She waved her hand and JoAnne found she could speak again. “Look if you want an apology…”

The Elf cut her off again “It wouldn’t be sincere and you wouldn’t learn a god damn thing. Don’t bullshit me, Baby, I’m a whole lot older than I look. Besides, I have your file.”

She leaned back, reached two fingers into her ample cleavage and pulled out an ornate, gilt edged scroll, untied it and began to read over it: “Let’s see… JoAnne Steadmann, age 32. No personal relationships. Wow, that sucks. You seem to have a severe case of Greed, brought on by a Self-Centered Nature and a Lack of Human Empathy, which seems to have developed around puberty….” Her voice trailed off as she read more.

Then: “Damn!? You’re Frigid? No Orgasms? No wonder you’re a grade-A Bitch! Hell, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone! Got your cherry popped in High School, but didn’t enjoy it at all. And you didn’t even experiment at Wellesley? Damn that’s like the lickety-slit capitol of the world. You missed out on a whole lot of the sweet stuff there, Baby.”

JoAnne just glared at her. Whatever the hell this was about, the little blonde bitch had no right digging into her personal life.

“On the bright side you’re not entirely freaked out by this, and that’s rarer than you think. Too many people have lost belief in Christmas magic; they can lose it completely when shit like this happens. You’re pretty enough in platinum-blonde-career bitch sort of way. And, according to Records Division, you never developed any real sex aversions, so that’s good….”

Shaking her head, the Elf hastily re-rolled the scroll, tucked it back between her oversized boobs, then leaned forward looking intently into JoAnne’s eyes. “I can fix this — but I have to follow the rules. I’m not allowed to just go around helping humanity — free will and all that shit. But I can inflict a Christmas lesson on you because you denied the True Meaning of Christmas. You were rude. To an Elf. Within the Fortnight of Christmas.”

JoAnne leaned back in shock. “Is this going to be one of those ghosts things? I…”

The Elf shook her head “Ghosts wouldn’t help you at all.” She paused. “God, I love that one, it’s a classic but it won’t work here. I am giving you the gift of Lust. I am removing most of your inhibitions — the sexual ones anyway and ‘cursing’ you so that at least once a day until Midnight on Christmas Eve, you’re going to find yourself in a situation that ends up in sex of some kind or other. Nothing dangerous, nothing that will destroy your life. You may end up feeling a little used and a bit humiliated, but you’ll like it. Besides, a little humility would do you a lot of good, Sunshine.”

JoAnne felt her anger flare “Nobody uses…” And just as quickly found herself muted as the Elf stood up.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road, I’ve got some fucking Joy to spread by the end of the day. Gimme the panties, you won’t be needing them.”

JoAnne tried to resist, but found herself standing, reaching under her skirt and pulling off her black silk underwear and handing them over.

She watched in disgust as the little Elf held them up to her nose and breathed in deeply. The Elf shook her head sadly and looked at JoAnne. “Nothing. Just Fabric softener and soap. You really are Frigid. I’m fixing that right now.”

She stepped over to JoAnne and reached up under her skirt. JoAnne felt the Elf’s very warm hand cup her crotch.

The Elf looked her in the eye “Damn. Closed up tighter than a bank vault.” She rubbed her palm back and forth for a second. “Ah, there it is!” JoAnne’s knees nearly gave out and she almost fell to the ground as she felt something hot surge through her whole body, but the Elf steadied her and guided her back into her seat.

As Joanne watched, the Elf licked her fingertips delicately. “Much better.”

“That was your First Orgasm. It’s been sort of stuck in the gate for a damn long time. It was a little weak from the time attenuation, so the next time it will feel better.”

JoAnne stiffened. “B…better?”

“More powerful, longer.”

JoAnne couldn’t even imagine that. The Elf continued on without really noticing JoAnne’s reaction.

“Here’s the deal, you get a little something every day, each day gets a little more extreme and a little more intense. I’ve used this one a lot — it was practically standard in Vicki’s day — Queen Victoria. It will be a real experience, but you can handle it. Still, if it gets to be too much, call my name three times — its ‘Holly Mistletoe” and I’ll pop in to help. If you really need it.”

Suddenly, with a sound like a balloon popping in reverse, Holly was gone and everything was in motion. The waitress rushed up with her drink — which she drank in one gulp – and her food arrived almost immediately. She managed to catch her breath and tried to act normal, although she just didn’t have it in her to bitch at the waitress for being too slow like she usually did. She even caught herself leaving a much larger tip than usual. She must be shaken up.

The Tattoo

JoAnne slipped into her desk — the walk back had been weird. She’d been so damn conscious of not wearing any underwear, and she normally never thought about… that. And she felt almost feverishly warm, with everybody bumping into her. She kept wondering if they somehow knew she was panty-less. Worse yet, she guiltily realized she kind of liked the idea. She had practically run by her new red-headed secretary and locked herself in the office. She started to buzz the secretary. With a start she realized she couldn’t remember her secretary’s name. She had just gotten rid of Samantha, the brunette — JoAnne never kept a secretary very long. She was concerned about secretaries learning too much about her — shuffling them back into the secretarial pool after 6 weeks or two big deals.

What was the name of the name of the new one… thin, red hair, pixie cut, pointy nose… Lori? No. Lisa? No. Lil… Lillian.

That was it.

She punched the intercom on her phone. “Lillian, could you bring me a glass of water please?” A somewhat puzzled, “Yes, Ma’am,” came back. Which made sense, after all, JoAnne never asked for anything, she ordered things, and she never, ever said please. Lillian quietly and efficiently brought her the water, then stepped out. As she left JoAnne watched her butt sway under her cream colored skirt. It was awfully perky and cute.

JoAnne squeaked.

She never, ever thought about things like that. She felt warmth growing between her thighs, more and more intense, like an itch that needed a scratch, but much, much more… personal. She shifted and tried to concentrate on work, but the only emails she had were autoreplies informing her that the recipients would be back after Christmas break. A curious tingling was growing just above her privates. She frantically pulled her skirt up and looked down. All her pubic hair was gone, except for a neatly trimmed patch just above her slit in the shape of a holly leaf. Even more of a shock, just to the left of it was a tiny incredibly intricate tattoo of a mistletoe ball on crossed candy canes. She could just make out the words “Christmas Magic. Bitch.” woven into the mistletoe. Shit. Shit. Shit. How the hell do you explain that to your gynecologist?

Maybe it was one of those stick on tattoos, she could just rub it…

The second she started rubbing, she knew she’d made a mistake. The feeling shot over her like arcs of electricity — she felt her lips go numb, her legs began to shake and her nipples grew achingly hard — she could make out the tips through the fabric of her blouse.

She wanted to stop, she really did, but she couldn’t — her fingers were playing with her lips and clit almost instantly. Without stopping, she managed to pull her skirt up around her waist and pull open her jacket and shirt. She couldn’t get the fucking bra off, but while she massaged her clit she reached inside the bra and began to pinch and tweak her rock hard nipples. She was so wet that her fingers slipped inside without her even realizing it. First one, then a second. She felt her orgasm hit like a train, then a second, then a third, leaving her gasping, barely able to move in her slowly rotating chair. After a few minutes she rearranged herself into some semblance of order, although her shirt and her jacket were each missing a button. No surprise there. Still, she felt better than could ever remember feeling; relaxed, warm and comfortable. She managed to make it through the next few hours, before she decided to leave. Lillian was watching her curiously; not too surprising since she never left before 5:00.

JoAnne heard herself say, “Go ahead and take a couple hours, you probably have some Christmas shopping to do or something.”

That got a warm smile and a “Thank you”. The rest of the evening was normal, although she did finger herself — just a little — in the shower.

The Package

The next morning, as JoAnne dressed for work, a number of things became obvious. First off, most of her clothing was missing — not one bra or panty was in the condominium. Even the bra she’d had on yesterday had disappeared from the hamper. There was a card sitting on the kitchen island — from Holly — advising her that she would “get those Manhattan Career Bitch costumes back later” if she still wanted them. All her severe black suits were gone as well; they were replaced with very expensive looking red silk suits of a similar type with slightly shorter skirts and sheer white silk blouses with decidedly more “decisive” necklines. Her shoes had changed too — color and about an inch more heel, although they proved surprisingly comfortable. The morning passed fairly productively — with only a couple of odd glances from Lillian. To be on the safe side, she decided to order lunch in the office, but it was almost two in the afternoon before anything happened.

Lillian buzzed: “Miss, there’s a bike messenger with a package; he says I can’t sign for it.”

“Send him in.”

A tall, muscular, dark haired guy with a small, brightly colored box walked in. “Sorry, instructions were explicit, you’ll have to sign for it.”

JoAnne sighed and reached for the box — as soon as she touched it, one end popped open and something fell out onto the desk. A vibrator. An enormous, brightly colored vibrator. And of course it hit right on the on/off button. She and the messenger watched it buzz around in a circle on her desktop for a long second before she grabbed it and fumbled it off.

“I, uh, this friend…”

“No problem. Short blonde woman — she looked like a joker, all dressed up like an elf. Had a hell of a smirk. I figured it was some kind of practical joke.”

JoAnne watched his firm butt as he left. Lillian followed her gaze as he walked out.

“Just want to bite that and hang on.”

Instead of admonishing her to be more professional, JoAnne found herself nodding and smiling like an idiot. She suddenly caught herself, then hastily shut the door and retreated to her office.

The vibrator stared at her from the center of her desk. It was red and white striped, of course. About 8 inches long, had little gumdrop-like rubber nobs all over it and a bullet like tip of gold metal. She decided to stick it in a desk drawer. Another mistake. As soon as she picked it up, the tingling between her thighs began again, and she couldn’t physically put the vibrator down.

She reached with her empty hand and clicked the intercom on the phone.

“Lillian. Hold my calls.”

“Yes, Miss.” There was something in Lillian’s voice, but JoAnne realized she didn’t have time to deal with it — the tingling was so intense it was almost painful — and she felt like she was suffocating in her suit — it seemed like her clothes were lined with lead weights. She fumbled her skirt off and opened her blouse and shirt, exposing her tits to the cool office air. Her nipples were standing out like fucking spikes and she could feel wetness between her thighs.

Good Lord. Her pussy was absolutely dripping. JoAnne clicked on the vibrator and began to run the tip over her excited nipples. She moaned loudly — it was a damn good thing the office was soundproof. Fuck, that felt amazing. She licked her fingers and got her nipples really wet so they stiffened even more with the cold and the vibrator. Damn, how long could they get?! Her breath was coming in short pants as she slumped in the chair, and hooked each leg over a chair arm, spreading herself wide open.

“F-F-F-Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Pinching her nipples with her free hand she ran the vibrator all over her inner thighs, eliciting more hot juice from an already wide open and steaming pussy. When she couldn’t wait any longer, she began to run the tip of the vibrator over her pussy lips — she planned to do it for a while, but when the tip hit her swollen clit, she spilled over into orgasm, screaming as quietly as she could.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. YES!”

As the spasms died away she meant to put the vibrator down and get dressed but her hands seemed to have minds of their own – her free hand spread her pussy lips wide open while she danced the vibrator in and out, just an inch or so — then she plunged it into the gaping hole, screaming loudly as the orgasms exploded through her. Even then, as she pulled the wet shaft out of herself, her hand seemed to slip and the tip slipped down below her slit, resting against her butthole. The vibrations felt good. Surprisingly good… almost… she felt another orgasm building. This time she did it — she began to frantically rub her clit with her free hand while she gently pushed the tip of the vibrator into her butt. By the time this orgasm settled, she realized had three fingers up her twat and had shoved the vibrator into her ass almost four inches. Still though, she felt in command enough to stop. She switched off the vibrator and shakily dressed herself, thanking God for soundproofing.

After she caught her breath, she dropped the vibrator into her purse and clicked the intercom.

“Lillian, you, uh, can resume forwarding my calls.”

“Yes, Miss.” Very definitely a smile in her voice. Fuck her, all she could do would be to spread rumors, and if she did she would be back in the secretarial pool without the executive bonus pay.

The rest of the day passed quietly and she decided that on her way out she would feel out if Lillian was going to say anything. As she stepped out the door she watched the cute redhead suppress a wicked little smile.

“Lillian, I thought it would be a good idea…”

Lillian intercepted the thought “…to remind me that secretaries do not discuss their bosses activities with anyone at all. It’s in the confidentiality agreement we sign when we get sent up from the pool.”

At first JoAnne was appalled that Lillian would cut in like that, but she decided to try to be nice; a very different tack for her.

“Ummm, yeah. I just didn’t want any rumors to, you know, start.”

Lillian smiled mischievously. “I won’t say anything to anyone, but maybe next time you might want to completely shut your blinds. And maybe turn off the intercom. Luckily, I was on headset. I don’t mind sharing, yesterday sounded great. Today sounded exquisite and looked even better… but if you want privacy…”

JoAnne stared at the communication window to the office — it was open nearly a foot. She was sure it had been closed yesterday — and she was the only one with a remote for it. Even the intercom could only be turned on from inside the office. She must have left it on when she… she began to turn bright red, then raced from the office.